So We Dance
by Vialana
Summary: Quicksilver and Northstar conversing on a bridge.


**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Marvel comics featured in this work of fiction.**

_As soon as I started reading Ultimate I knew that I'd have to write this. I love Pietro. After reading only the first trade of Ult. X-Men, my love had quadrupled. And then Jean-Paul came along…_

_This may or may not eventually lead into a longer work of mine I'm planning right now. If it does, this will still be a separate piece and can be read that way._

_Timeline: between Ultimates v2 5 &6 and Ult. X-Men 65 &66, but I don't think I refer to events in those timelines, save for characters in X-Men. I do refer to stuff in Ultimate War though, so spoilers for that._

_Warnings: slashy implications, swearing_

_Enjoy._

**So We Dance**

"I remember you."

Jean-Paul nearly fell over the bridge railing when he heard a voice come from nowhere. Bracing himself, he turned around to see nothing. Turning back, he nearly fell again when he saw the young man leaning against the rail watching him. He was about to snap, when he took in the other man's appearance.

Lean, fit physique, pale skin, sharp features, really intense blue eyes and shocking white hair that was known infamously around the world. Jean-Paul was lucky he was standing beside the younger of the two known for the look.

Then again, considering the man's expression …

"Quicksilver." Jean-Paul was surprised his voice was as stable as it was right then.

"That's right." The man smirked. "And I hear you're calling yourself Northstar these days."

Jean-Paul shrugged, the motion disrupting his hair. He pushed it back behind his ears. He liked it long, but it was in that awkward stage where it was growing, but was neither long nor short enough to be manageable.

"To what, exactly do I owe the pleasure of such esteemed company?" Jean-Paul asked, not really wanting to play around. He was out for some quite reflection, but if this jackass was going to ruin it then——

"Eloquent for a brat, aren't you?"

"Better an eloquent brat than an arrogant jerk."

Quicksilver smirked. "Cute."

Jean-Paul leered. "So I've been told."

"Ah yes, I'm sure your gorgeous Russian tells you so at least once a day. I was beginning to think the poor boy was never going to get laid. Logan's never been that receptive to those sorts of overtures before."

Jean-Paul wasn't feeling quite so playful any more. "Word travels fast, I see."

"Not as fast as me, but a close second. You're going to have to settle for the bronze."

"Is that a fact?" Quicksilver was really getting to him — somehow pushing all of Jean-Paul's buttons. The pale speedster knew it too. He smiled maliciously as he saw Jean-Paul react. He forced himself to calm down. "Seriously, why are you here?"

Quicksilver shrugged. "I was bored, saw you, thought it might be fun to pick on you."

Jean-Paul rolled his eyes and turned away from the other man to stare out at the horizon again. "Prick."

"I know." Quicksilver replied happily. He settled in beside Jean-Paul, a little too close for Jean-Paul's taste. It reminded him of how, the few times he'd seen Quicksilver — in person or in pictures — he was draped all over his sister, or vice-versa. Recalling that, Jean-Paul thought the man seemed even creepier now.

But he was quiet after his last words and a good buffer for the wind. Jean-Paul had forgotten his jacket and the afternoon was slowly dwindling. He glanced once at his unanticipated companion then shrugged and proceeded to treat him like he were a part of the scenery. Quicksilver seemed to know what he was doing and chuckled. Jean-Paul probably would have glanced irritably at the other man for interrupting his act of ignoring Quicksilver, but his phone rang.

Piotr.

Jean-Paul glanced at the man beside him, hesitating slightly before answering his mobile. Only a speedster could have caught the hesitation, and, much as Jean-Paul hated to admit it, Quicksilver was probably the only person faster than him. He turned away from the man, but not before that infuriating, _knowing_, smirk had been plastered on the guy's face.

"Hey Piotr."

"Jean-Paul. I'm really sorry about last night."

"Hey, saving the world, one of the few excuses I'll accept." Jean-Paul clenched his teeth as Quicksilver snorted at that. He tried to ignore the other man even more. "I hear you guys did some good."

"Yes, we had a successful mission."

"Awesome. Hey, so, next weekend … feel like making up for lost time?"

"I … uh, that would be wonderful." Jean-Paul tried not to flinch at the pause. Piotr probably had to make sure there wasn't anything on. Not everyone thought as fast as he did. Probably just the man standing next to him.

"Great, well, why don't you get back to me with details. You'd know the area better than me." Quicksilver was seriously starting to bother him now, even though the man wasn't doing anything.

Piotr had noticed his distraction. "Okay … Jean-Paul, is everything all right?"

"Yeah, just … bad timing I guess. There's someone here and I'm really not in the greatest mood because of it." Jean-Paul glared, but Quicksilver only grinned at the description of the situation.

"Ah. I shall call back again tomorrow then."

"That'd be great, Piotr." Jean-Paul winced. There was no reason to be cutting the conversation with his boyfriend off because of some asshole who shouldn't be eavesdropping. "I'm really sorry about this," Jean-Paul tried to pacify him lamely.

"It's fine. We will talk again tomorrow."

"Definitely. Goodbye Piotr."

"Goodbye."

Jean-Paul hung up and shoved his phone back into his pocket, scowling. He refused to look over at Quicksilver.

"Wow, you're a really sucky boyfriend."

"Shut-up. And thank you, by the way, for completely ruining my day."

"I aim to please." Quicksilver stretched back from the railing, his spine seeming to ripple with the action. "You know it's only a marriage of convenience, right?"

Jean-Paul finally snapped. "What the fuck would you know?" he hissed.

"Look, the boy's not exactly in the closet, but you're the safe option. He doesn't have to humiliate himself with you, or fear rejection. _Everyone_ knows he's in love with Logan. If Wolverine gave him even a hint of attention, you'd be forgotten faster than I could run the length of this bridge."

"Again, what the fuck would you know?" Jean-Paul's question wasn't as forceful as the last. "Besides," he added, desperately, "like you said, Wolverine's not that kind of guy."

"I said he never used to be." Quicksilver was hanging over the railings, watching Jean-Paul from the side of his eyes. "Rasputin is a very attractive young man. If I were even the slightest bit interested, I'd go after him too. But he's not my type."

Jean-Paul shook his head. "You're really something, you know that? I don't know what you're doing with the Ultimates; you haven't changed a bit — still fucking around with people's lives. Still so much like your father, Quicksilver."

Jean-Paul knew he hit a mark when Quicksilver's jaw tightened, but he refused to feel sorry about the comment. Quicksilver's remarks had hit just as sensitive a spot for him.

"Pietro."

"What?" Jean-Paul frowned quizzically at the man next to him. Quicksilver hadn't even turned to face him after the strange comment.

"My name."

"I know what your name is."

"Well, if we're going to insult each other so personally, we might as well be on a first name basis, Jean-Paul."

Jean-Paul ignored the half-smile on Quicksilver's face as he rose to the bait. "That's Northstar to you, _Quicksilver_," he hissed.

Quicksilver just chuckled and shoved himself away from the bridge railings. "Well, _Northstar_," — Jean-Paul hated that when the other man said his codename like that it sounded far more personal than his actual name — "if you take nothing else from this inspiring conversation, at least take this final piece of advice."

Jean-Paul turned to face the other man fully, eyebrow cocked as though to ask, _"Well?"_

"Loyalties leave you vulnerable. Be careful about who you trust them to."

The blank expression and serious tone of voice stunned Jean-Paul. He didn't say anything as the other man grinned darkly, his eyes shadowed and face drawn, and turned away, walking slowly. Slow enough that, if anyone looked hard or quick enough, they could see his limp.

Jean-Paul's stomach sank as he noticed this. He'd of course heard rumours about the incident, but to see the evidence … He'd woken up sweating with a scream on his lips for weeks after hearing the stories — he still did on occasion now. Alex and Lorna couldn't understand what was so horrifying about the idea — oh, objectively they could, they'd been quite disturbed by the idea too, but they weren't _him_, they couldn't understand how closely this was linked to everything about himself.

Seeing the other man leaving, Jean-Paul couldn't leave things like that — even with the other man's previous behaviour.

"You too," he called out, feeling rather foolish as the man stopped and tilted his head around. "Uh, I mean, just … Just take care of yourself, Pietro." He knew he was blushing, but there wasn't much he could do about that.

Pietro threw him a grin over his shoulder — self-assured and arrogant. Jean-Paul wanted to grind his teeth at the sight of it. He knew he'd been manipulated into feeling sympathy, but a part of him was glad for the grin. A guy like Pietro Lensherr was supposed to be an irritating pest deriving amusement from others.

Still, he was a manipulative bastard.

Jean-Paul watched the other man until he disappeared off the bridge and down a side street. Sighing, he slid down the railings and slumped on the concrete pavement, back resting against the metal mesh that kept him from falling over the side. He dug into his pocket for his phone and dialled the same number he'd called at least once a day for the past few weeks.

"Jean-Paul." Jean-Paul smiled hearing the other teenager's voice. Piotr sounded almost surprised to hear from him again.

"Hey Piotr. Sorry about earlier, there was this guy and I was feeling twitchy around him."

"Anything serious?" It was sweet how concerned he was about such a little thing.

"Nah," Jean-Paul waved it off, trying not to think how the incident felt more serious than it actually was. "I'm cool now. I'm kind of interested in hearing about how heroic my boyfriend was on his latest mission."

"Jean-Paul …" Jean-Paul grinned. He knew that tone of voice. Piotr was blushing. "It wasn't much."

"C'mon, I want a chance to swoon over a superhero, you're spoiling my fun. Gimme details."

"If you insist," Piotr laughed.

Jean-Paul listened ardently about the X-men's latest rescue mission, Piotr's voice doing exactly what it was supposed to: soothing him and making him feel like he could really fall in love with the young Russian man.

He was so engrossed in the tale he didn't notice his thumb running absently around his kneecap, drawn close to his body, until a few minutes into the conversation. Jean-Paul shivered, not hearing the next few sentences from the other end of his conversation after this realisation.

He never did find out why Pietro was in Chicago.

Clenching his hand into a fist, Jean-Paul returned his attention to the conversation with his boyfriend.


End file.
